


Cold Hands, Strong Hearts

by nyahchatnoir



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991), Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Crack Fic, Crack Pairing, Disney, Disney Princess, F/M, Gaston Lives (Disney), Redemption
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:09:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24151096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyahchatnoir/pseuds/nyahchatnoir
Summary: How would it be if Elsa and Gaston were to meet after the events of Frozen 2? Perhaps there is more to the man who is usually portrayed as a monster. There is certainly more to Elsa. With patience comes understanding. Even the good looking, however contrite, can eventually become deserving of a happy ending.  Elsa/Gaston. Possible future triggers. Lots of fluff and redemption. Humorous. Pls comment, I am lonely. XD
Relationships: Elsa/Gaston(Disney)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 11





	1. Into the Woods Pt. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. Before anyone attacks me in the comment section for this pairing, this story was supposed to be for funsies. My writer's discord asked me to do it.
> 
> Unfortunately, I have fucked up. Now I kind of ship this pairing. Thus, here is the extended story! You are very much welcome. This takes place after the events of Beauty and the Beast and Frozen 2. As always, please review if you enjoyed this! There shall definitely be a lot more chapters to come!!! I'm sorry for what few mistakes there are. xx

Brawny and brainless, those were the two words Queen Elsa thought of whenever she wanted to describe the gigantic dolt in front of her. The broad hunk of meat was named Gaston. The name sounded manly yet a tad ghastly when it reached her ears. Still, it brought an odd chill to her spine.

Which was odd, because chills were quite unknown to Elsa. Well, perhaps the woman was prone to them sometimes. Only during the few instances when she managed to get sick, did the cold manage to get to her. But she eventually (jokingly) blamed her sudden sneezing bouts on Kristoff, her sister's extremely sweet but awkward fiance. The man had been, understandably, incredibly concerned when she originally decided to leave the Arendalean throne. However, Elsa knew what she was doing. Within a year's time span, after the events of the dam falling, the kingdom was thriving better than it ever had in the clumsy but capable hands of her younger sister, Anna. The energetic redhead was proving to be an absolutely charming queen. Elsa knew that their mother and father would be proud.

As for the older sister, Elsa was enjoying the life that was ahead of her. A simpler, quieter life among the nearby village, serving as its chief seemed the type of leadership that Elsa was comfortable in; an environment in which she could fully thrive and finally had room to express herself.

Though now, as Elsa stood beside a small clearing of trees, she had to wonder why she had strolled over to see what this man was up to. Perhaps she was bored. The snow-blonde haired woman rolled her eyes at the back of the massive man who paced back and forth across the grassy patch of forest in order to toss the pieces of bark into a steadily growing stock pile of lumber. With his large muscles, the handsome man easily lifted the enormous limbs that he had just cut down squarely over his shoulder, before hastily stomping over to his collection in his new bearskin boots. They were made from a bear that he and some of the other tribe's men had caught the other day. When they brought the bear to the village, the men carried the poor thing on a small cart from Arendale, courtesy of the queen herself. Yet the raven haired Adonis had utterly no clue as to how to sew the blasts pieces of skin together once everything was drained and cleaned.

That was when Elsa took pity on the man. She laughed, took the skin from him, and sat down with him, as she measured his feet. She built his shoes from the ground up with no complaints, just a few playful jabs at him, as the two spent the day in quiet togetherness. She quite enjoyed the moments when he was quiet.

Alas, now the man was preparing to build a house. And though he effortlessly lifted the heavy tree limbs, a small stirring occurred within her upon catching wind of his noises. Th minute grunts which met her ears were intriguing. They were almost delicious in their rumbling timber. And that made her smile.

Elsa took a quick moment to remember the day that Gaston first arrived. On that fateful day, the man had appeared starved. His eyes were half deranged from hunger and a bit of something else... But that did not phase the ex-queen, not nearly as much as his arms, for they were coated in a plethora of scary cuts and bruises which showed along the hill-like tops of his bulging muscles. Not to mention his face, which was long and chiseled- honestly, for his apparent good looks, the man's features were not fairing well. Plus, his gaze was blood shot. The cuts on his body were still grotesque; he almost appeared mauled, and the majority of his pains still came in the form of biting slivers of flesh which were, at that moment, coated in fresh auburn. His bruises were a deep purple. They sung of danger against his sun-kissed skin. Every blemish shifted with each movement.

The painful blows to his body were now faded, however, and Elsa's blue orbs followed Gaston everywhere. Yes, some kindness had truly done him some good, indeed. Elsa's white-blonde eyebrows rose at the thoughts that overran her mind. The image of Gaston ever possibly just roughly grabbing a hold of her waist within his hands, before he would gently lean her against one of the nearby trees in order to sensually lay a hand on her thigh, quickly lifting her skirt high unto her lower half to-

Err. Elsa had to cease those thoughts. The woman was grateful, nevertheless, for Gaston's easy recovery. A few good meals, along with some assistance from her fellow natives had definitely managed to help those arms of his to regain whatever had been once lost. Those sexy and toned arms... were absolutely beneficiary to their tribe, and he definitely deserved another chance at life. The man was purposeful.

Quite like Gaston, Elsa had a purpose, the woman mused. Perhaps she was worried about him. Or maybe she was just concerned about his muscles. They were beautiful enough to be protected, after all. But truly, she mainly wanted to just watch over him for a moment from afar.

Gaston's stature was definitely a sight to be reckoned with. The way the muscles of his shoulders moved with his every action caused a rippling effect within her. The sweat that transpired down the visibly perspiring length of his back was tantalizing. It created a naughtiness within her mind which instantaneously caused a mighty reaction. The virgin warmth of her nether regions, soft and hairy, trembled between her legs. Her twin thighs, silky and light in appearance, tightened against one another. The action was out of self-preservation, and nothing more. Elsa needed to stop this.

Beyond the female's sudden adult urges, a far more interesting thing was gained from Gaston's abrupt appearance. The man brought with him stories. He told her people the tale of far away castles, once abandoned and dismissed, full of magic and life. He proclaimed the truth of beasts and enchanted roses! Though, upon first hearing so, Elsa found the notion of an enchanted rose ridiculous, but she was able to create living beings out of ice and snow, so in the end who was she to judge.

"He was a beast with sharp claws!"

The usually classy royal pictured Gaston perfectly within her mind's eye. The sight of him and his giant stance, as he stood bent above a gentle fire pit, wildly contorting his face into an expression of mock evil was moderately alarming. The man truly had a knack for storytelling. Using an array of huge gestures and evocative faces when lamenting his tale was his forte.

A face that handsome and chiseled had no right to look so angered when Gaston said, "He was inhuman! The creature was large and bulky. His body was covered in bear-skinned fur. He was monstrous. He had the horns of an elk and the canines of a wolf! And in his eyes... when I looked into them, all I saw was darkness and hatred."

This had been Gaston's original story. The one that spooked the villagers when he first arrived; it was the story that he proclaimed once he was eventually cured enough from his lack of nourishment to finally recount his tale of woe.

Yeah, the man was a liar. All he knew how to do was speak absolute bullshit. Though, he did also know how to flex his muscles.

Nevertheless, it was not until about three months after Gaston arrived that he eventually started to come clean about some of the more... repulsive acts that he had enacted during his past life. The man, beautiful as he was, always seemed like a magnificent lie. His appearance changed a tad in Elsa's aquatic eyes, once he finally came clean about himself. Bringing his more monstrous side to the forefront of her mind was a bit jarring at first. But again, who was Elsa to judge?

It was during these moments of honest, raw clarity that Elsa found herself slowly growing closer to the enigmatic stranger.

Gaston, for as much as he liked to self-depreciate his level of intelligence sometimes, had surprisingly much to bring to the table. Whenever Elsa listened to Gaston, she found herself gaining a bit of perspective from him. It felt cathartic. The woman liked having the option to obtain knowledge, whatever information that she could get her dainty little hands on. For example, the large stranger came from the land of France. Elsa had heard of the place before! It was printed most painstakingly onto the royal maps of the explored world, but Elsa had done enough exploring to last a lifetime, thank you. Norway was the only country she felt like living in for now.

Through hours and days spent with Gaston, Elsa came to learn about him. Eventually, she began to accept him.

Gaston seemed like a simple man to understand on the surface. But it was the times in which they spoke at length, that she began to understand him better. She could see why he was so devastated when the only woman he ever wanted, Belle, inexplicably fell in love with a different man, a damned beast, at that. The softer portion of her mind empathized with the brutish man child before her. Although, the dryer half of her mind could only laugh at the frivolity of it all. It only made sense!

The outcome, no matter the oddness of it, was inevitable. A man who lived his entire life seemingly loved by everyone could not stand the idea of anyone failing to tolerate him, let alone the woman of his dreams. An egomaniac like that would be just like Sven whenever his single-minded consciousness was focused on a carrot; aaaall over that.

Belle, that was the allusive stranger's name. It sounded beautiful whenever Elsa spoke it aloud, and Gaston translated the name for her. It meant beauty in the French language. Now, how quaint and coincidental was that?

Whenever Elsa spoke at length with him, as the mysterious name left her lips, the sudden pronunciation of it always caused a startled, almost guilty expression to slide across Gaston's stare. The dark eyes turned moody, in the oddest, most humorous way.

Elsa felt as if she wanted to chuckle at him on most days. But for a man with such a big ego, laughing was a punishment that the female did not agree with. Only a mature conversation, held one-on-one, could sooth the man's raging inner need to throw a tantrum.

And let her tell you! Gaston had the tendency to get carried away. During the moments whenever the man was hunched over his work, focused on chiseling away at a spear with a rock, he appeared inexplicably flustered. Like he was confused, trying to keep a steady track within his thoughts.

For a man who, for months, said that he held not a care in the world, the male appeared lost inside his thoughts. The man would take walks on his own, humming to himself. He would, during other moments, grumble beneath his breath and stalk away like a petulant child, all the while lugging a small one-sided satchel filled with various tools and snacks to eat throughout the day. He would return, much later, to his makeshift cot every afternoon or night without fail. The fool acted like an innocent baby when he slept. Yet the man was nothing but a gigantic, loud snoring sack of lard and muscle. The mental image made Elsa smile.

In the end, for all of Gaston's faults, Elsa understood how it felt to suddenly lose sight of one's inhibitions. Pairing an abrupt power imbalance with the weight of emotional stress and worry could only lead to panic. Danger could be another word for it. The body's natural instinct to either fight or flee had the potential to be crippling. It could force even the seemingly strongest and most confident people to crack under pressure.

Those thoughts, along with Elsa's innate natural ability to critically think about most situations, brought a levelheaded criticism of which the woman used to dissect Gaston's actions. Surely his upbringing had to have some part to play in his wrong doings. No one became a used-to-be hot-headed big shot over night.

The way that Gaston described the night of his mauling and the miraculous instance of him surviving an otherwise murderous fall was astounding. The events were... certainly enlightening when she compared them to the current state of his personality before her. Perhaps the man was still lying?

Elsa always had a knack for reading people, even if she found herself struggling to connect with them on most days. But with every new morning, the tried to step out of her comfort-zone. For too many days and nights, the intelligent woman had been kept locked away within a gilded cage. The doors to the palace rarely ever opened, and when the finally did, a widespread panic erupted across the entire land. All of it, everything, had been her fault. Sure, her parents caused her anxiety. Her sister was a catalyst for causing her to freeze all of Arendale, but absolutely nothing forced Elsa to give into all of her fright and frustration. Nothing made her freeze Arendale, except for her fear.

On the evening when Elsa finally came clean about all of her sins as well, Gaston was increasingly hesitant at first. It was not until a few weeks later, after many talks and quiet walks together, that he began to relax around her. Magic was something that obviously was not common place in France. Elsa was determined to change his mind about magic. The sweet possibilities had the potential to be endless. And now that Elsa was finally confident in her own capabilities, free within her soul, the extent of her power was endless. She was the bridge! One day, Gaston would see her true power. But for now, the woman was content with listening to his stories.

Gaston certainly had a way with words, that was for sure. Anna would love him. Elsa found herself mildly transfixed in amusement whenever the two went on walks. He always either wove a tale of daring dos, dismissed damsels, or gloating anguish, and nothing in between. But when it was just the pair of them sitting by an open fire or within the confines of a tent, he began to delve beneath the surface level of his words.

Though Gaston was a man who remained proud of his achievements, it did not come as a shock to Elsa when she finally discovered the fact that he secretly abhorred the way that he was cursed since childhood to be pushed into the spotlight.

'Called it' she remembered thinking to herself.

In France, everyone liked Gaston. The man was forthcoming and charming. He was strong, and obviously he would bear superior children. Elsa barked out a laugh at that line. Poor Gaston merely glared at her, long and hard, before his sullen expression gradually settled into a simpering grin. To her credit, her laugh was a tad infectious. Sweet but strong, the mood lightened further once her little salamander friend, Buni, slunk his way in a zig-zag motion up the sweaty back of Gaston's shirt. The wind spirit, Gale, came and messily ruffled the top of his mop of black hair for good measure. The lopsided hairs landed haphazardly in front of Gaston's eyes. It hung, covering up his entire view. Elsa burst out into a set of full blown giggles at the sight.

Alas, Elsa won. Gaston could never stay angry with the woman's companions for long. Her general likableness, ever present and immaculate, was far too agreeable. She was just sweet. Merely having her within his vicinity was enough to eventually rest the brutish man's unsettled nerves. The woman in question could only grin in thought.

But let's reign in the story, shall we?

As Elsa continued to watch Gaston from her spot, she gave an amorous look. Again, her form remained hidden by the trees. Still, her pretty lips widened.

For a man who held such obvious good looks and strength, Gaston sure had a short fuse. He used to have a lot, yet now he had nothing to lose. No more prized bucks or fancy chairs littered the floor. And he especially had no woman waiting inside a comfy cabin, happily waiting for him to get home in order to rub his aching feet after a grueling day of hunting for the family. Elsa mused that she would probably have some kind of stew cooking. He was such a poor sap.

Gaston was traditional in his mindset, but he had never met a self-sustaining royal before. When Elsa first heard about his more conservative values, she almost lost all of her composure. It was hard enough for her to not laugh at the idea, let alone stop thinking about it. Was France truly this set back in terms of equality?

Determined as Gaston seemed, the male was doomed to remain stagnant, as long as he continued to live in that small provincial town. Speaking of the word provincial, Gaston barely knew the meaning of the word. Elsa was surprised when he confided that tiny fact to her. Luckily for him, the woman was an excellent teacher. She had enough patience garnered from an accumulation of years of teaching Olaf. So, Elsa merely shook her head gently, as she explained the term for him.

Gaston became quite agreeable when she approached him softly, with kindness. Was this Belle of his so upfront and mean that she never even decided to give him the chance? Or maybe Gaston was just a fool. That had to be it. He was but a lug-headed fool who could only focus on one damned thing at a time.

Maybe that was why Gaston was unable to read anything. When she first showed him a map of Arendale, the man was decidedly confused. He did not understand the importance of reading. He could not fathom why anyone would even want to read. That was the catalyst which fulled a dead set determination within Elsa. Come hell or high water, the woman was determined to teach Gaston how to read in the next couple of months.

This man who was egocentric, only obsessed with the perfected image of him next to his perfect little wife, appeared a stark image from the headstrong focused lumberjack before Elsa. As he stalked back and forth, he created a long worn path, tromping back and forth over to his wood pile. He, who once lived among a populace that valued looks over intelligence, appeared justifiably hot and sweaty, but purposeful in the early afternoon daylight. Perhaps Gaston had been just like his forgotten neighbors in that poor provincial town, superficial and judgmental. Every human had the capacity to express such things.

A devious thought came to Elsa's mind. Raising a swift hand, she edged her fingers into a sly gun point and sent a brisk trickle of wind squarely in Gaston's direction. The small trail of air ghosted by his face, and he failed to react to the sensation, merely smiled at the cool breeze.

Elsa frowned. Pursing her lips, the woman lowered and locked her eyes onto his backside. She repeated the effort at full force. The gust of wind held just the right amount of punch when the man felt a firm slap on his bottom. Gaston jumped, screaming out in shock. The disdain he wore made Elsa choke on the laughter which threatened to burst past her lungs.

"I'm sorry handsome, was that too hard?" Elsa asked, before she lifted her wrist to blow a sly exhale onto the tips of her fingers. She waggled them outward in a friendly gesture.

Gaston just mumbled. He turned away to keep working on his woodland home.

Elsa could only grin, her pale face stretching from ear to ear, as it lit up a beautiful shade of milky cream.

"Oh, come on Gaston," she giggled playfully, before she gently walked toward him. Her hands became outstretched in front of her short sleeved dress, splayed outward in a placating gesture. Her eyes, wide but understanding, stared directly into his own darkened orbs.

The woman almost felt as if she needed to keep laughing. Talking to Gaston felt, on most days, as if she was attempting to soothe an enraged bear; well, he was a cute enraged bear, one that was not actually enraged, more so greatly annoyed with the world. For some unexplained reason, she loved getting a rile out of him. Maybe it was worth an awkward introduction, if only to see him share an emotion with her that was not as egotistical as it was showy.

Elsa tried to regain whatever ground she had just stepped beyond.

"It was just a joke! I'm sorry if I spooked you. Is it okay if I talk with you for a moment?"


	2. Into the Woods Pt. 2

"It's very important, I promise."

Elsa nodded at her own words.

Gaston merely sent the woman a blank stare. His thick brows lowered into a straight line. Amused as he was at the thought of Elsa using her powers to slap his ass, the fact that he was caught off guard weighed heavily on his actions when his usually sculpted mouth became a clamped shut line. The edges of his jaw shook from the effort it took in order to appear annoyed at her. For he was, however the idea of taking revenge upon her, possibly slapping her own ass lightly in return, was all together far too tempting. Gaston could never risk it. The man felt completely in control of his actions, at last for once in his life, and what his gut said to do was for him to leave Elsa alone. He threw a couple more limbs onto the pile, before he turned his back to her. He continued to move back and forth across the clearing.

"Okay. What's it about?" Came his sulky response.

The male was still fairly new to the strange village. Beyond Elsa, Gaston had little friends. Well, except for a male hunter in the village named (insert nameeeeee). Besides him and Elsa, the strong man held only a few select companions of who would ever vouch for him should he manage to evoke the rage of the seemingly sweet royal. No, the Frenchman did not feel like compromising his current living situation at all. He reigned in whatever flirtatious yet surprised retort he would have normally given the girl (had he been in France, all bets would have been off the table) before he pulled on a grouchy expression.

Elsa placed her hands on top of one another, seemingly complacent. But unknown to Gaston, they formed one conjoined tight fist in front of her waist. She had to hold back the urge to giggle more at what she had done. She had to physically refrain her hands from using her magic by literally holding herself back. The thought made her crack up within the confines of her mind. She smothered down the urge to grin.

"Well, I was just wanting to speak with you in order to get your opinion on something."

"On what?" Gaston asked. The mountain man's question came out grumbled and tired.

Elsa began to edge her way closer to him with a nonchalant ease. Her footfalls appeared as effortless as they always had.

"I heard somewhere along the grapevine," she said, casually slinking up behind the trail that he was creating, "that there was someone in need of some reading comprehension help within the village."

Gaston froze and peered behind his back. The large man feigned a look of interest, while his actions spoke what he did not wish to utter; the fact that he decidedly wanted nothing to do with whatever his chief was about to say enthused Elsa. It made the simmering upturn of her face widen.

Gaston felt awkward. He abruptly became aware of his surroundings as he worked, the way the everyday breeze seemed to suddenly leave all of the nearby trees. The air around them became strangely quiet. Simply the notion that the two of them were out in the middle of nowhere together was halting.

Mentally, the usually charismatic Gaston was panicking. The frantic organ within his chest cavity beat in overtime in a confused mixture of annoyance and fear. His mind, usually focused on one thing at a time, became a jumbled mess. The idea of being judged, the image of a beauty with tied up chocolaty locks, plus the harrowing realization of what Elsa was about to say almost forced him to stumble. Luckily, the man was more coordinated than that. Still, his confidence wavered.

Elsa pushed forward.

Feeling the slightest bit tentative, she said, "I was just wondering what your opinion on that was. If I have the free time, shouldn't I help them?"

Gaston's actions became a tag more aggressive, while he worked. But they remained purposeful.

"Leave him alone," he said flippantly.

"But what if I can't," Elsa said, placing both hands by her sides, "What if I feel compelled to? What if I need to?"

Gaston shrugged. "Then, that should be his choice."

"His?" Elsa smirked, not letting him see her amusement.

"Gaston, I never mentioned a gender."

"Lucky guess?" He mused, before sending Elsa forced grin. The smile was full of fake benevolence. Forever handsome, the male had the grace of a statue, as he placed his now empty hands firmly on the waist of his pants. He gripped the large muscles of his waist roughly, his fingers taut with annoyance. His shoulders became straighter, tighter. His inner anxiousness was beginning to show, even if he tried to contain it.

This was a part that Gaston wanted to play. He was stubborn, but alas, so was Elsa.

"Anyway, Gaston," She persisted, "I can't just let it go like some people can. Sometimes, when I have an idea, it just sticks with me. Then, I can't get rid of it. I just feel like he really needs something. Another skill that he can gain for himself through his own means on his own terms through his own work. If only he just had a little bit of help. I know that with a little bit of assistance, soon he would be a pro. He'll see the true beauty of reading, why it's so important and wonderful."

Gaston had enough of her rambling.

"Why is this so important to you?" He spat, as he swiveled to stare daggers into her eyes.

"What makes him so important to you that you won't leave him alone about it? Hasn't he shown enough of himself for you to know that he is totally fine with how he is, that he wants to and deserves to not know how to read? Do you honestly think he wants to not be illiterate?"

Elsa was shocked. The woman stood mutely under the heat of Gaston's heavy gaze. His eyes burnt their way deeply into her heart, and his shoulders trembled out of pent up anger. She could tell that the man was one sentence away from punching a tree for good measure. But Elsa was never afraid, not of the man who shook in his boots. He was a man, emotionally stunted. Making cracks through the surface of his words, were the hidden pleas he made for help, for someone, anyone who was capable of soothing the echoing beast within him.

The way Gaston spoke contradicted himself, but the man was far too gone into the conversation to care about that little detail. All that he knew at that moment was the instinct which was naturally bred into him. To fight or flee, that was the question. For now, Gaston had chosen to give hell at the idea of Elsa making him truly focus on the words written onto the pages of her books. He was a grown up adult male, too old to learn such useless things. He needed to provide for himself, for the village. What could reading ever do for him? Especially now, now that his time was up.

Gaston did not need the weight of Elsa's insistence on the matter battering at his head. He had no use for her help in that regard. Besides, all that reading ever did for the foolish man was manage to steal away the one thing that he cared about in the entire world before himself... And now she was gone. Far away in a land that he would never have been able to recognize anymore. Gaston was too far gone. He was too different from his old self. Ever returning to that tiny little French village where every person in town adored you, wanted to fuck you, or just wanted your attention, was the last thing on Gaston's mind. All that he wanted to worry about was building his own cabin to live in; he had the hands and the skills of a carpenter, and Gaston was damn near determined to put them to good use.

"He doesn't understand," he brokenly said, and his work became infinitely slower, "And maybe he doesn't want to know. Did you ever think about that?"

Else sent him a leer of understanding. She moved forward and placed a gentle hand flat onto the shaking form of his back. She carefully rubbed at the firm bulk of muscle she found there. His form was trembling slightly.

Elsa said,"But what if he does? What if he's just too scared to try?"

She gave a light smile.

"You know, for a man who knows so much, the one in questions seems a tad afraid to try anything new. I used to be like that. I still am, sometimes."

"Well," Gaston murmured, "Maybe he's right to be that way."

"Oh, is he now?" Elsa asked. She gave a hum of amusement.

The man before the woman sent her a dark, grumpy look. Still, he let in a long breath and released it with a grumbling sigh.

"Maybe he just needs some time to think about it."

The deep rumbling regret of his voice made her giddy.

"Excellent!" Elsa decreed, as she clapped her palms once together in front of herself happily.

Gaston breathed in deep and swelled out his chest. An intense wave of prideful self-preservation washed across his cross thoughts.

He said, "Yeah, well, that doesn't mean he'll agree to it though."

"Right," Elsa said, and she quickly cleared out her throat. "So, how are the preparations for your new cabin going?"

"Great," he sardonically replied, "It would be going a lot better if a certain woman wasn't coming to ask me frivolous questions about reading and... cabins."

Elsa merely smiled at the idea that she was pestering Gaston. After all, the woman had only his best interests at heart. Just the idea of him being rude to her at all honestly pissed her off a little. But Princess Elsa, the new chief of the Northuldra, was used to people rebutting her own special brand of extremely kind but overt help.

Elsa grinned and raised a hand out of pure delight.

"Here, let me help you with that."

She easily lifted the entire pile of logs with her breezy ice powers. Turning to look him squarely in the face, she titled her noggin to the side and pointedly asked, "Is there anything you would like to do with these logs?"

"I was..."

Gaston paused. The lower muscles of his large jaw began to slack out of confused wonder, while his words came out puzzled, wide mouthed.

"... building a house."

As the awestruck male finished that sentence, he watched as Elsa waved her other hand in a tiny circle, first small, then it gradually enlarged. A mist of sparkling crystals soon became a tight flurry of miniature snowflakes which hovered, forming a seemingly weightless swirl of ice. She gave an easy laugh.

"Were you wanting a one story or a two?" she asked seriously, yet her tone was one of great mirth.

"Uh," Gaston floundered for a long moment, before he eventually found his voice, "O-One is fine."

Elsa merely shrugged.

"You're right," she said, as she did a little dance with her fingers, easily levitating the heavy chunks of wood a good ways above the ground, "We can always build on later."

Gaston felt wholly silenced, and he watched Elsa miraculously place the pieces together. Though he knew of Elsa's abilities, he had never been able to witness the pure strength of them firsthand. The sight made him impressed, honestly. However, managing to impress the man did not stop him from crossing his arms in front of himself out of foolish pride. Yet, he could not stop the expression of awe that coated the top portion of his face. His eyebrows rose high beneath the tussles of his dark hairline. But his mouth closed in a tight, constrained line. His jaw clenched out of innate jealousy and something else. He stayed quiet, as she finished.

Elsa let out a small titter of triumph when she finished her quick project.

"There!"

She bobbed her head in pride and placed both of her hands on her waist. She smiled at Gaston.

"What do you think?" she asked him, her grin utterly perfect, if not a tad lopsided. "Took me all day! I think it turned out alright. Let me know if you want any changes."

Gaston was quiet. The usually boisterous man could only stare in affixed silence, as he took in the sight of the modest cabin she had built in front of him. The complete house was a settlement of logs stacked skillfully atop one another. Stuck like concrete between each log was small bits of rock hard ice. It shone with tiny bright sparkles that annoyed him. Yet the almost delicate sight of the carefully curated pieces of hardened white left him breathless.

"Truly," he managed to say.

Once Gaston was eventually able to grumble a few more thoughts beneath his breath, he swallowed down his astonishment.

The man eyed his friend and tried to maintain a look of unimpressed pride. It failed, and the hard fist by his right side began to shake lightly. It was a tell-tale sign that he was attempting to restrain himself. Of what, Elsa had no idea.

"Thank you," came his curt response.

Elsa simply gazed at him. For as transparent as Gaston often times seemed, the man had a way of abruptly turning the tables on her. She faltered in her pretty ice laden flats. She lost a bit of confidence, but only for a moment. Then, she nodded. Taking a quick glance between Gaston and her handiwork, she picked up the side of her dress and threw it beside her out of mild frustration.

"You're welcome," she forced out, before she began to walk away from him in order to return to the village.

"Anyway, Gaston," Elsa said over her shoulder, glaring brazenly toward his muted aura. Her tone was wholly sardonic, "Let me know what your decision is later, okay?"

Her colorless lips were pulled into a frown, one which instantly drew in Gaston's attention. He kept quiet under the weight of her obvious disappointment. He felt ashamed, and the shame building within him was a feeling that was quite new to the woodsman. He discovered, once again, that it was a sensation that he disliked wholeheartedly.

Now, Gaston was obtuse even on his best days, that was for sure, but even he knew of the moments when he messed up. He understood the implications of his actions, and he saw the ways he could have carried himself better throughout their conversation. Perhaps he had been too rash, too brash in his dismissal. As far as he knew Elsa, the woman had been nothing but kind and sweet - maybe a bit flirty too, but that was not any newly discovered feat for usually sought after marksman. Gaston was not unaware of his good looks. Throughout his life, the man had managed to get by on them alone; that is, until he finally began to learn how to hunt when he was around age eight. But that did not mean that he was not allowed to ever disparage his apparent charm. In fact, Gaston loathed it sometimes. Both women and men had thrown their-selves at his feet before. Whether to bed him or become one of the numerous males who traveled with him on the hunt, it did not matter.

Gaston loved being surrounded by people. He craved the attention like it was a drug. The attention was all that the attractive male had ever known... But what good was being surrounded by people when it made you dislike the person you had become.

When everyone wants you, yet you can't even keep the sole woman that you desire by your side... what then? What is the use in being sought after, if not to bear children with someone you can tolerate? What do you do when the only female in your life that you desire... completely dismisses you? When neither of you understand each other, and what you want in life is completely different... When you fall off the mental deep end and succumb to your frustrations and fright... When you give in to the insistent urge to push away the only beautiful thing in your life within a world so colorful yet dull... what then?

Back in France, Gaston was the villain. He was the beloved foil. Playing the part of a handsome gunman who could have anything that he ever wanted if he so wished had its downfalls. And damn, the fool truly wished. He wished with all of his might, and even then he failed to have the courage to understand his love The dream within his mind was stupid. Him, coming home to find his lovely wife cooking dinner for the two of them, possibly even their family, was his dream. It was a sham, a beautiful stupid pipe dream. The man was an utter fool. He never deserved Belle's sweet kindness. That being said, the woman never really gave him the chance to learn, not that Gaston could blame her for the curt words she preferred to use whenever she was standing up to him. He really was a prick back then, in retrospect.

Gaston watched the slim curve of Elsa's back, as she stormed away. Poised, the petite snow blonde's backside looked especially tantalizing, more so with her every swaying step. There was so much chaotic energy swirling within her hips. The bowed out the edges of her tiny frame in two soft glorious lumps which bellowed to him, called his full attention. She held so much power with her every step. It was evocative. The tiniest part of his brain, the portion Gaston claimed was smart, believed that Elsa had absolutely no idea of her desirability, the true level of her sexual prowess. The smallest echos of want, the pool of warmth that gathered under his belly, made him want to posses it for himself in some way. But he could never do that, not to Elsa.

Gaston barely knew her. Shit, no one actually knew him, if the man was to be totally honest with himself. Living in that small provincial town, No one cared enough to ask how he was feeling. Gaston was used to the mental confinement. He placed himself within those walls seemingly every day. All the populace ever wanted to talk about was vain things like how many wild animals he had killed that day, or even stupider things like how he usually ate dozens of eggs each day or... body hair. Ugh. The people in that town were useless to him. He barely even cared to learn their names.

In France, no one took take the time Gaston needed in order for them to remotely come close to understanding him. No one even tried except for LeFou. He was the only Frenchman who Gaston started to miss from time to time. But then he would have flashbacks to the moments when his close friend attempted to kiss him, and Gaston's expression would blanch. Yet in the end, it was no matter. LeFou was a friend, through and through. Gaston would forever care about the short man, even if the thought of his friend having a hard-on for him brought an uncomfortable shiver down his spine.

Thinking of LeFou, Gaston allowed a minute smile. He gradually strolled toward the newly built cottage. His brown-black boots made a gentle rustling sound along the leaf coated ground, as he stepped up to the wooden door frame. It was simple but finely placed. Upon the ground, sitting by itself on the fresh padded earth, was a slab of ice which read "Welcome" in bold carved out letters. It sparkled under Gaston's stare. His eyelids closed out of remorse.

"Dammit," he cursed beneath his breath, and he carefully unlatched the frozen latch which held the front door shut. It opened easily and felt incredibly solid within his hands.

Looking into the pine scented home, Gaston's lips turned into a gentle frown. He toed at the flooring tentatively. It was formed out of a crystalline translucent ice which showed a beautiful cascade of browns and greens through the depth of its underside. However, the top of the ice was a firm layer of ice which miraculously was not slippery. He poked again at the flooring with his boot. It was not until the man was totally convinced that he was not going to fall, that he finally stepped fully out onto the single sheet of flooring. He looked around himself at the cleanly cut walls. Apparently Elsa was a master at carving not only ice but wood with her powers... She was the fifth spirit after all.

Gaston had been such a fool. This woman had the power to destroy him. But instead, she walked away. Was there a chance that he had been foolish not to stop her?

Suddenly, his chest panged with regret. He whispered a pissed off curse.

"Shit."

****

Late into the evening, Gaston stumbled into camp. He carried a bag that was empty of snacks, and he gave pleasantries to the villagers. He smiled at Ryder, as he passed him, however the latter was confused by the urgent look on Gaston's face. The man rose his head, peering around himself. He was looking for a kept head of whitish yellow.

There! Once the man finally caught a glimpse of Elsa, he made a beeline for her. The beautiful princess was laughing beside her friend, Honeymaren, giggling behind one pretty cream colored hands. He watched her smile behind the petite fingers, the way it edged between their creases. The sight was cute. It was welcoming.

He stomped over to the pair, and the duo of women paused mid-conversation to stare up at him in curiosity. He let out a soft grunt through his nose, steeling his resolve. Then, Gaston spoke.

"Meet me at the cabin," he stopped in order to gaze hard at her, "At dawn."

Elsa thinly smirked.

"Excellent," came her quick response.

Gaston nodded. He tromped formally away from them.

Honeymaren, who had just watched the exchange with an extremely puzzled leer, sent Elsa an extremely perturbed look.

"What in the name of the five spirits is up with him?" She asked.

Elsa simply laughed and said, "Don't worry, Maren. I'll tell you later."


	3. I'll Meet You In the Woods

Elsa was usually a deep sleeper on the nights when she was not buzzed about the next morning. Yet on the night before she was scheduled to begin her reading lessons with Gaston, she could not stay asleep. After a long restless bout in which she laid in her cot feeling annoyed, her chest fluttering with mild excitement, for about eight hours, the energetic monarch became ecstatic to witness the blessed sight of sunlight poking its way through the brown leather of her tepee. She immediately pushed herself up from her cot.

Waving her fingers, she formed a pair of cute thick boots for her morning trek. She pointed to herself and raised her hand with a small dip and transformed her simple dressing gown into a pair of soft dark purple pants. Her magic effortlessly flourished along her astute shoulders forming a thin deep blue long-sleeved tunic that was interlaced with a thousand see-through sparkles. A narrow set of two little baby blue strings made a criss-cross pattern in the fine open area of skin in front of her bosom. The interweaving strings ended at the top of her breasts in a small delicate knot.

Elsa gave a smile. Conjuring a sheet of reflective ice that formed into a simple rounded out mirror, she held out the refined piece of sculptural art.

A sudden brush of air snuck into Elsa's hut and grabbed the mirror from her lovely hands. The woman let out a minor noise of surprise. Then, she giggled before raising both hands to cheerfully tie up her loose tendrils.

"Why thank you, Gale," Elsa said, happily namedropping the enigmatic wind spirit, "You're such a good helper. Plus, you're very timely, too."

She watched as the mirror was quickly pulled away from her, then gently returned to its original position. The usually kind and playful spirit was obviously kidding with her, no doubt. Elsa was never bothered by Gale's tiny antics. She welcomed the offbeat personality, in fact. Even if they could not speak with her, Elsa on instinct knew that the invisible wind spirit meant no harm. The element was just as connected to her, and she was it.

When Elsa was done tying her hair into a high single long ponytail, she held out her palm to the hovering mirror.

"May I?" she asked Gale, raising a playful eyebrow.

There came a lengthy pause. Then, the spirit dropped the mirror.

Elsa cried out and laughed, instantly levitating the mirror with her own powers.

"Whoa there," she said, giving the air around her a wide-eyed stare, "Give me a heart attack, why don't you?"

The female quickly evaporated the carved out sheet of ice before Gale could manage to get their hands on it again. She cocked a hand onto the base of her hip and gave a lighthearted smirk. Her lips widened into a gentler smile, once a soft breeze rolled by, kindly licking her left cheek. The sensation was warm and sweet.

She asked, "Would you like to go and torture Gaston with me? Because today I am teaching the man a very important skill, and he shall be very visibly annoyed with me. However, you are welcome to tag along and see it all for yourself."

She gasped.

"Oh! But that is on one condition!" Elsa paused and rose a commanding finger into the air, "You have to promise me that you'll behave. This guy will be frustrated enough as is, without you touching him, fondling him in weird places, or tussling his hair. Alright? Because we know just how much he likes to fix up his hair, and pretty boy gets angry whenever you mess with him. Do we have a deal?"

Gale twirled around her body, starting from her toes to her torso, happily swirling. The delightful zoom forced an excited chuckle from her throat.

"Good!" she said, as she walked toward the hanging flap to her tent and easily lifted it. She carefully walked outside, making sure to lower her voice to a tiny hum.

"Because you're my friend, and I'm trusting you. Alright?"

Gale cheerfully ruffled some nearby leaves on the ground and threw them high into the air. The dying shades of red, yellow, and brown looked so pretty, falling in the light of the misty quiet early morning. The spirit burst through the falling leaves, carrying a few excess leaves with them. Gale flung off any remaining leaves and came to hover by Elsa. Caressing her cheek was a warm bundle of sweet chaotic energy.

Elsa could not help it. She was so much like her sister in the way that she thrived off of Gale's enthusiasm. Just as she was about to start walking in the direction of Gaston's new cabin, she gave a tad squeak.

"I almost forgot!"

Elsa giggled and created a generously sized one-sided pouch to hang over one of her slender shoulders. She made a beeline for the short pile of books which sat by her bed and stuck them purposefully into the bag one by one, followed by an empty notebook, a single quill, and a bottle of ink. The woman sent a grin in Gale's general direction.

"Right. Now then. Let's go walking!"

***

The trek to Gaston's cabin only took about five minutes for Elsa. Thankfully, the quaint simple cottage was not too far from the Northuldra tribe. If it had been, the female would have been definitely calling upon her water friend, the Nokk, in order to aid the royal in her travels. The spirit had grown on Elsa, as had the other four spirits. The Nokk had become a great companion who was willing to lend aid to her. The idea made her smile. It certainly felt nice to have spirit friends in all sorts of places.

Coming upon the newly built cabin, Elsa stopped to place a thoughtful yet joking forefinger on her cheek. She took a long moment to examine her handiwork, playfully tapping the skin there. Once, twice.

"Ya know," as the woman spoke, she looked over her shoulder and laughed, "It actually looks very nice in retrospect. I didn't get the time to really take it in yesterday. The man made me so angry, I just left right afterwards."

Elsa did not have to mention the fact that she had built the entire log cabin for Gaston. The shiny areas of ice magic were apparent. Beyond that, Gale could easily sense Elsa's magic. It rushed away from Elsa's side, lowered close to the ground, and kicked up a trail of leaves ending right at the entrance of Gaston's home. She chuckled.

"Fine, have it your way," she remarked with a dry timber.

Elsa tromped her way to the front door of Gaston's cabin. As she raised an - inexplicably tentative - knuckle close to the sharp piece of flattened wood, she brushed off Gale's excitement with a look and sarcastically said, "It doesn't matter. I'm through with having this one-sided conversation anyway."

She rapped her knuckles once, twice against the sheet of thinly stripped pinewood. A pair of hollow echos rung through the quiet morning. Elsa waited.

Nothing came. For a good minute, she merely stood at the door. She crossed her arms demurely before herself and wrung her fingers together, while she waited. Still, nothing happened. There came no hasty fumbling from Gaston, no curses or yawns from the usually loud male; no grunts from a man who had to physically pull his clothes on. Well, not everyone had magical abilities these days.

Elsa tilted the crown of her head in an attempt to listen past the door. She leaned forward and heard nothing.

'Well, this is odd,' her mind commented. Just as she was raising her hand in order to knock a third time, the door to the home suddenly unlatched and creaked open just enough for the woman to slip on through, before a hot grip suddenly latched onto her wrist, rapidly pulling her inside. Elsa tried to even out her breathing, while she stared at the frenzied gargantuan of a man in front of her.

"What the hell, Gaston?" Elsa demanded.

She watched the obnoxious man in unconstrained appall, as he instantly moved to lock the door behind them. She watched the huge muscles of his back visibly lower when he sighed out of relief.

Once Gaston finally turned back to face Elsa, the woman sent him a furious glare. It was the kind of stare that demanded answers, and she was a woman who wanted the truth! No lies. She was confused and frustrated. Honestly, the royal was a little bit tired as well.

Gaston knew that he messed up again. The man ran a big frazzled hand through his hair, regretfully pulling a few strands loose from the dark ponytail that was tied loosely behind his neck. He eyed the upset blonde-headed woman with a wary stare. Taking a couple of steps toward her, the man threw out his palms in a placating gesture.

"Look," he said, glancing around himself as if there were ghosts in the walls (well, perhaps there was...), "I get that you're mad at me. But I can't have them all knowing that you're trying to teach me how to read. Do you have any idea what that would do to my reputation?"

"Your reputation?," Elsa spit back at him, throwing an petite arm outward in sardonic fury, "What reputation do you have, Gaston? I don't see what the matter is. You're a man who came from nowhere, and that is all it is. As far as I'm aware, you don't even want to go back. The only reputation that you have is the one that you make for yourself..."

Elsa forced her emotions into a calm simmer.

"Here," she finished her minute rant.

Gaston was an adult, but even adults had the capacity to be scared. He was afraid of failure, and Elsa could understand why. Thus, she reached into her bag and pulled out a thin pad of notebook paper, deftly handing it over to Gaston. Then, she placed her quill directly into the grip of his other hand. Between the two of them, Elsa had infinitely more of an idea of how to go about such lessons than Gaston. The latter's face looked wholly at a loss.

His expression scrunched into a dissatisfied leer.

"What am I to do with this?" He asked, disdain dripping from his tongue.

"That is a very good question!" Elsa cheerfully replied.

Swinging her hips, the woman playfully stepped past him, strolling further into the one room household. The home was bare with only the few belongings Gaston owned and his homemade cot that he was gifted by the village.

Elsa thought that the place needed to become a bit more... homey. But that was a task for another time. Lifting her wrists in order to perform a skillful dance, the woman moved her fingers, forming a small spiral of air which touched down onto the icy floor below. It magically took upon the shape of whatever she was making and created a simple four legged table with two chairs facing one another. She turned to send Gaston a broadened smile.

The man looked desperate for a way to get out of the situation. Too bad Elsa was steadfast in her resolve to give this man some well-needed perspective.

"Okay pretty boy," the woman said, as she walked over to the newly made chair. Running the palms of her hands slowly over the sleek tip of the back of the chair, she leaned mock tantalizingly over the immobile object. "Now is the time to sit down and get ready for me..."

Gaston swallowed down the deep growl which threatened to erupt from his throat. He straightened his back a tad. The man could only stare in terrified reverence, as her adorable lips turned upward into a devilish smirk.

"Because I'm about to teach you the alphabet."


End file.
